


Are You Okay?

by Maybeanartist02



Category: Fictif, Fictif: Last Legacy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Death, and abuse, fluff too ig, overall just a bittersweet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22304143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybeanartist02/pseuds/Maybeanartist02
Summary: Felix falls asleep while studying, and when he wakes up, Anne is offering solace.He accepts.
Relationships: Felix Escellun/Anne Nova(OC), Felix Escellun/Female Character, Felix Escellun/MC
Kudos: 17





	Are You Okay?

**Author's Note:**

> ….are any of us okay?

It is rare that Felix gets nightmares, especially of that night.

But something about tonight is different. Maybe it’s being in his childhood home again, without anyone he can lean on—

“Felix?”

A soft voice tears him from his dream-induced spiraling thoughts, and he lifts his gaze to find Anne standing in front of him, holding a book in her arms, and a worried expression on her face. At this point he realizes that, A: he was covered from ankle to chest by a blanket, and, B: she was carrying the book he’d been reading earlier.

He must have fallen asleep while reading.

“Ah…” he sighs, slumping forward, head in his hands, “I must have fallen asleep. My apologies.” He glances at her again, “you need’nt have let me sleep. We have work to do, and—”

“Rest is just as important,” she cuts him off with a huff, then smiles, “besides, I’m in no rush to get home.” She frowns, taking a seat beside him, “Are you all right?”

“Of course,” he says, too quick, too rehearsed as he looks away, “why wouldn’t I be?”

She purses her lips, then licks them, “you seemed…I dunno, distressed, I guess.”

He hums. “It’s nothing.”

She huffs, “It’s clearly something,” she sighs, “but I won’t push it,” she stands, and his eyes widen, not expecting her to respect his boundaries like that, and he looks to her as she looks down at him, “just know…when you want to talk about it, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And, he knows, that that was the moment he was doomed forever.

She leaves the room, and his eyes move from the door she disappeared to the couch, where she’d placed the book.

“Fuck,” he hisses, promptly throwing aside the blanket, and jumping up from his position, crossing the room in big strides, sights set on the door.

He throws it open and steps into the hall, crossing the brief distance between his study and Anne’s room. He stops in front of it, briefly taking in deep breaths in order to compose himself.

Then he knocks.

Half a minute later, the door opens, and Anne looks at him, seeming surprised to see him at her door like this.

“Oh,” she squeaks, “Felix. Are you okay?”

She always asks that. He wonders why, and if anyone asked her that.

“I would like to talk to you,” he says with a sigh, “may I come in?”

She blinks, then steps aside, “sure.”

When he steps inside, he realizes just how little she truly has, right now. The sheets of the bed are rumpled, clearly used, but the only other thing of note is the chair by the desk, which is pushed away from it, and the items on it—one of them her bag.

Everything that was on her person.

“Is there any particular reason you want to speak with me?” she asks, drawing his attention to her.

“Does there need to be?” he asks.

She blinks, then shrugs, cheeks pink, “Well, no.” She smiles at him, “I didn’t know you wanted to just hang out. Didn’t think we were anything other than teacher and student, to be honest.”

He frowns, “is that all you want us to be?”

She opens her mouth, reply dying on her lips as she closes it again, gaze cast down. “Well,” she mumbles, cheeks burning as she forces herself to speak, “No. I just…thought you did.”

He sighs, turning to face her fully, and she copies him, “For the record. I consider you my friend, Anne.”

“Oh.”

He nods, averting his gaze, “and. I wanted to talk to you. “

Her cheeks flush, eyes scanning the room, suddenly, “Oh, I…okay. Sure.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then hums. “Let’s take a walk,” he says, heading for the door, “I’ve yet to show you our gardens, I believe.”

She blinks, surprised, before her expression brightens, a grin splitting her lips as he exits the room. She giggles, grabbing her bag and following him out into the hallway.

The two reach a quartz archway, leading into a vast garden, flowers and herbs filling the rows of boxed in soil. From roses to mint and fruit trees, the Escellun estate seems to be packed with various plants.

“I used to spend hours out here,” he explains, “either reading, studying or just enjoying the fresh air.”

Anne tilts her head, “really?”

He nods, “when I wasn’t studying with Escell, that is.”

She purses her lips, “somehow I get the feeling that wasn’t too often.”

He sighs, “not in the beginning. But, after…a ritual…I got a bit more room to breathe.” He frowns, “that ritual was actually what my dream was about.”

Her eyes don’t leave his face, though his can’t meet hers as she softly hums, “Really? …Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs, “There’s not much to talk about. He killed me, then brought me back. It left an impression that haunts me today.”

For a moment, she freezes, resulting in him walking ahead a few meters, before noticing her absence as she spits out:

“I dunno, that seems like a lot to talk about.”

His gaze finds hers, and he feels… _floored_ , with the unadulterated rage in her brown eyes, the clench of her jaw and fists.

“You’re his _son_ ,” she hisses, “not…some _test subject_ to try out some bloody _fucking_ ritual on.”

Felix blinks at her, then lowers his head, “Yes, well. It happened. There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“You didn’t deserve being treated like that,” she shakes her head, then scowls, “and…I see he still thinks of you as his property.”

He blinks, gaze snapping up, back to her as she approaches him, “What? Did he say that?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “he didn’t have to, not in those terms. It’s in the way he speaks to you, looks at you,” she pauses, then adds, “the way he treats you. Like a pawn, some…expendable piece.” She clicks her tongue, “you’re irreplaceable, and by the time he finally realizes, you’ll be long gone.”

He smirks, enjoying the confidence she has in him, “how do you know that, Barista?”

She smiles, “call it fortune teller’s intuition,” she says in a flirty tone, throwing her dark red hair over her shoulder as she strides past him.

He smiles at her back, where she has folded her hands together, hair swaying with the even tap-tap-tap of her heels on pavement.

He jogs to catch up, now actually looking at her.

“You know,” she hums, “now I kind of feel like talking about what haunts me, too.”

He notices, then, that her smile doesn’t reach those beautiful brown eyes, more a grimace than a smile, and he hums in contemplation.

“I didn’t tell you so you would tell me in exchange,” he confesses, “I trust you. That’s all.”

She stops dead in her tracks, drawing him to a stop too. Her eyes are wide, looking more watery than he can recall—ever. She sucks in a sharp breath.

“Oh.”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well—” she chokes a little, then runs a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath, “—it’s. just been a while, since I. Since someone has told me that,” she laughs, smiling as a tear manages to breach her closed eyelids.

“Shit,” she hisses, noticing, and pulling away, to wipe her eyes, “Sorry, I didn’t…didn’t mean to.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks, “you did nothing wrong. _Feeling_ is not a crime.”

She frowns, and it’s like a bullet to his chest, seeing her so… _defeated_.

“I know,” she says, “but…sometimes knowing doesn’t real do much, besides making you feel even more guilty.” She turns back to him, “then again, I always feel guilty.”

He furrows his brows, “and why is that?”

“Probably survivor’s guilt,” she laughs, dry and a little tired, “god,” she shakes her head, “I miss my family…so much. But, even getting me back to Earth won’t do anything in that regard.”

_They’re dead._

Though neither of them say those words, you don’t have to be a genius to know that it’s the truth.

“What happened to them?” Felix asks, “if you do not mind my asking.”

She waves him off, “it’s fine. It…” she takes a deep breath, “it was. A year ago, I think. We were on our way back from a weekend at this…like, indoor pool—swimming—resort and. God,” she laughs, dryly again, “a truck crashed into us.”

Felix tries hard not to show his surprise, but the sharp breath that he sucks through his nose probably is very noticeable.

“I lost my little sister, my brother, and both my parents. I…was the last one standing.”

She scowls, curling into herself, nails digging into her sides, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have survived, I—It wasn’t supposed to be me, I—”

“No,” he cuts her off, striding towards her, “No, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.”

His gaze is firm, boring into hers, but she can barely focus on the affection they carry.

“But—”

“Listen to me,” he whispers, brushing her hair to the side, and slowly uncurling her hands from boring into her skin, resting his forehead to hers, “none of that was your fault, and you surviving was _not luck_. The universe wanted you alive.”

He pauses.

“I for one, am very glad it did. For…I would certainly miss you.”

She chokes up, breath catching in her throat. She forces a laugh, watery and raw.

“You didn’t know me,” she says, tears staining her cheeks.

“Oh, you don’t know that,” he says, wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs, “maybe I saw you through the void. You don’t know.”

She laughs, again, but it dissolves into sobbing, broken coughs, and she finally gives up trying to stay in her own space, collapsing into Felix, arms wrapping around his neck, face burying into his shoulder. Quick to react, his arms wrap around her waist, palms tracing her back and holding her up.

“It’s all right,” he whispers, lips brushing over her shoulder, “it was never your fault, Anne.”

And he doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but he doesn’t care—as long as she’s okay. Genuinely, okay.

He takes inspiration from her, and the first thing he asks her every morning, from then on is:

“Are you okay?”


End file.
